Lockpick Wars
by Amandizzle
Summary: Two factions. A handful of thieves. A little friendly competition never hurt anybody... well, maybe a few bruises.
1. Chapter 1: Quickfingers

This is a common scene in this place. It's a medium-sized house in Anvil, right on the water where Regine can sit and read and watch the ships. She misses her sailing days. It's quiet here though, she enjoys that.

Methelde's asleep again. It's been a long night, she's been out "borrowing" some clothes and whatnot to make her job go a little smoother. There's a half-eaten loaf of bread and some brandy by her bed. Fermera will have to clean that up, she shouldn't leave food out, it'll bring bugs.

And Kolfhe's going to go for what's left of the drink of course. Go sit down, Kolfhe. Fermera's going to get you some food in a minute. Help you sober up. Oh shush, Methelde's not gonna be in a good mood if you wake her up. There you go, Tarenen, get him to quiet down, would you please?

Kolfhe's a big man, a Nord, and Tarenen's not the strongest elf in the world. So it takes some coaxing to get the other guy to quiet down. He's not a bad guy, big heart, just a little bit too fond of the drink. He's a friendly drunk, too. "C'mon Tare, come throw one back with me, c'mon," No Kohlfe, it's only eight.

The Nord lets his head fall back onto the chair and begins to snooze soon enough. Wud-Ne lopes in with his pockets full and shoots a look at the dozing beast in the den. Oh stop that, you know nothing's going to come of this. Fermera's arms quiver; she's not all that strong and she's carrying a large pot.

"Let me help you with that," and Wud-Ne is up and lifting the pot from the woman's little hands. She nods, murmurs a thank-you, and waits for the Argonian to set it down so she can get herself a bowl. Oh, she's forgotten the bowls-

It's alright. Regine's got some with her, when did she get into the kitchen? Shh, quiet with those, try not to hit them together so much. Methelde's still sleeping you know. Well, maybe she could stand to have an earlier wake-up time. All's well anyway, and each of the thieves in the den takes a bowl. Tarenen nudges Kolfhe awake; he's a little quieter now.

Eat boys, we've got work to do.

Regine eats little and leaves first, back to the edge of the water with a book under her arm. Fermera wishes she'd stay longer, she's so distant lately. Kohlfe is a slow eater too, but there's going to be a lot gone by the time he's done.

Oh look. Methelde's here, rubbing her eyes and dragging her bare feet on the wood floor. It's early by all of Cyrodiil's standards and they're all already up, she doesn't understand it... she gets a few friendly "good mornings" anyway. Regine's the only one that disapproves of Methelde's odd sleep schedule, and she's gone on her usual walk. She'll be back by noon. Girl's usually awake by then anyway. Tarenen offers her a bowl of the stew, some conglomeration of meat and vegetables and other things that may or may not be appetizing.

Fermera's a good cook, and Wud-Ne is a gourmand. If the food was as dubious as it looked, it wouldn't be in this house. So the Dunmer takes the bowl, sits down between sleepy Kohlfe and Tarenen, and chats with Fermera. They're almost like sisters- almost, because that one's like the den mother, and because Methelde never liked her sister much.

In the hours to come, this subdivision of the Thieves' Guild will live their lives like the rest of the citizens. Nobody will suspect what they do by night, how they're supporting themselves in that, admittedly, slightly lavish house. And the world doesn't question the fact that all five of them are boarding together in the place, as obvious as it is that they've no relation.

Several other groups like this one will be doing the same. Some operate by day, when homeowners are out. Some prefer the cover of night and brief dormancy. These five are Quickfingers- they're a small faction within the faction, holding friendly competition with the other "families" of burglars and pickpockets.

Tonight they work, eat like kings, and find a pub to stop by depending on where they end up. They're moving out to Skingrad. It's the beginning of their "tour of Cyrodiil," a cycle of moving from town to town to snatch what they may until they return to Anvil where they're based. Kvatch is in rough shape and the rain seems to be perpetual since the Oblivion Gate opened there. Someone's closed it, but the weather's not any better. So they finish their work here tonight and leave in the morning.

And in Skingrad, if The Silent haven't already moved out, they might meet up with that sister group. Then, perhaps we'll get a better look at those thieves.

Of course... Not many have.

--

You like? :D If you're enjoying the first chapter-type-thing would you kindly review so I know whether to keep writing? Haha, thanks. I love you. :p


	2. Chapter 2: The Silent

"You are so-ooooh very pretty my dear," the Imperial says through the skooma haze. Maja smiles down at him with cloudy eyes and smudged lip paint. She doesn't care that she's not living up to her name tonight; she's going to have some fun this time around. It's not all work, she thinks. I get enough of that every other evening.

"And you are so-ooooh very sweet," she giggles. Her pale hair is falling around her face. I look perfectly wasted, she thinks with a satisfied grin. Poor stupid sod, he must have been so lonely. Ah well. He's got some company for the moment, hasn't he now? Her manicured finger tickles the bridge of his nose and she sees him smile more broadly. "Haven't you got a lady somewhere waiting for you?"

"Naaaaow this may come as a... a shock to you," hiccup, "but I don't have me a lay-deee right now, you darling," hiccup, "you darling thing you."

She smiles. He swallows some more skooma. Easiest target ever. "Well how about we get you a little more comfortable, then," she says, pushing herself up off of the man and letting her slim, pretty hands find their way to the buttons of his vest. Maja's victim giggles stupidly as she slowly begins to peel away the well-made, silver-buttoned vest. She backs off a bit, allows for him to swig more of the drug.

He does. She can barely contain her amusement.

Maja kisses the tip of the man's nose while reaching for his belt buckle. He laughs a bit in his stupor. Soon enough his body will decide to let go, she thinks. And then the kill. She chuckles. She's played this game so many times, but it never does get old.

Before she's even done loosening his pants the man is out like a light with a bottle of the drug tipped and leaking onto the bed. She slips her hand into his pocket, retrieving a rather heavy gold pouch and a watch of some sort with an ornate design etched into it. It may have some sentimental value to the poor fool, she thinks, and replaces it with the papers and check that were in the man's posession. She's gotten at least 200 gold off of this one. Not bad, no need to take anything more that he'll miss too much.

Well, maybe... she gently pulls the vest from his body and he laughs in a sort of drunken way. He's not really awake though. It's alright Maja, just take the vest, it's got pretty buttons hasn't it? So she figures she can hand this off to Di'Rato. He's got a fondness for good clothes, as does she, and it really seems a waste to sell it off while the buttons are still bright. The man's head tilts to the side. He mumbles something, slurs it really.

Maja does not read the papers in his pocket. The target's personal life should never affect one's actions. With her bit of cash and a lovely new vest for her friend under her coat, she pushes open the room door quietly and descends the stairs, but not before leaving a soft red kiss-mark on his cheek. Wasn't a bad-looking sort, was he?

The bartender gives her a look. Not one of contempt, never anything of the sort... quiet knowing. A smile. No intention to tell, Maja knows. This bartender was one of the faction's own once. He's the one that gave her the name Bright-Eyes, even.

Just another night, she thinks to herself. And many more to come. Living well has never been so effortless.

!! !! !! !! !!

Maja is careful to push the door open quietly so as not to wake the homeowners. She and the rest of The Silent have been allowed to take up temporary residence in the basement of a friend of Ildean. The five of them have exactly one bed to share, so it's a nightly battle to decide who gets the mattress and who has to curl up in one of the piles of hay.

She takes gentle steps and silently, quickly opens and closes the trapdoor, greeted by the sight of Lucret and Desirhae snuggled up against each other on the tiny bed, both Imperials, and both a bit in love as anyone can tell. Di'Rato's long legs are folded up against his body; he is comfortably asleep in the hay with his tail twitching as he dreams. Maja drops the bag of coins next to him; he can handle the money better than she would.

Ildean rests in a large chest filled with clothes that's just a bit too small for him. His knuckles brush the ground as he snores quietly. He's got too big a heart to take the bed when he has the chance and he knows Di'Rato prefers the straw. Being a Redguard, he's a hell of a fighter- but too kind to really injure anyone terribly. Maja has a soft spot for him, because he's got a soft spot for the world. She finds herself brushing a finger against his cheek when she walks by him to shed a few layers and take her place in the hay next to Di'Rato. The Khajiit stirs a bit as Maja lies down in the hay.

These two are partners; as dearly as she loves Ildean, she enjoys her nights out with Di'Rato, and their skills fit together beautifully. She has the charm and silver tongue to make any target an easy one, and he's brilliantly talented in the ways of theft and stealth. Together there's no heist these two can't complete. Of course their lives are made much more simple by the rest of The Silent, and the Thieves' Guild as well... but they really are a two-man army.

Lucret and Desirhae, though wonderfully compatible in other aspects of life, are a horrible pair when it comes to work. Still, they seem to share some connection that the others just don't, though nobody can quite place it. And they do have an affinity for the nighttime, so it's rare to see them sleeping at this hour instead of out wandering the town or breaking into a shop or two. Lucret isn't that great a thief (he can do what needs to be done, if not smoothly), but he can fight as well. Desirhae seems wise beyond her years, and old soul in a youthful body. Though she's the first to pick a fight, she's not really a hostile woman.

Maja's eyes begin to close. It's been a long night, and she needs another four hours or so of sleep to function in the morning. Still, there's something satisfying about being the last one awake...


	3. Chapter 3: Fangs

Desirhae remembers the night she was changed.

She was so, so afraid. Poor girl didn't know what was happening. First thing in the morning she noticed a touch of blood on her pillow, and her immediate reaction was to touch her fingers to her neck and feel for puncture marks.

There they were, tiny and raised, and the proof that Vincente hadn't taken her request as a joke. She was more curious than anything, really, she just wanted to know what it was like... he wouldn't let the dear creature experience it vicariously though. He'd give her a taste of life as a vampire.

She'd wormed her way into the Dark Brotherhood with a quick motion of the wrist, the glint of light against the blade, and by the time she'd stopped shaking and cleaned the blood from her hands, a man swathed in dark robes had found her. Lucien Lachance, she remembers, and he had an offer for her that she couldn't refuse.

Take the life of a man at some inn, she can't remember who at this point, and they'd let her become a child of the night. She doesn't understand what the allure of it was but she had no qualms about taking another life; after slitting the throat of a guard who'd pursued her after a theft, what did one more matter? Years after the deaths of her parents, and after four years of living in shadows and constant flight, she was offered a home.

A place to sleep at night without having to wake and make sure she wasn't in some prison. A place where she would be among her brothers and sisters. A sanctuary. What could she do but kill the worthless bastard and run, run home to her new family in Cheydinhal?

They opened their home to her, showed her such love that she felt as though she could stay there in that place underground forever. She was given a bed and armor, and the privilege of being the hand of the Night Mother. In return, she carried out Sithis's tasks without question and, at times, with alacrity and great pride. She developed a bond with her fellow assassins and grew past her apathy towards killing- she learned to enjoy the moment of control and the feeling of intimacy that came with the kill. She would always lock eyes with her victim if possible, absorbing the panic and fear and reveling in their final release as they went limp.

Desirhae showed such lucidity after a kill that Ocheeva was certain that she'd been drinking or some such after she fulfilled a contract. Nobody feared her for it, and with good reason, as she could never harm another member of the Brotherhood. They were her kin. Hell, they were all her loves, and she would never leave this place, with its earthy scent and cold dirt floor.

A year passed after she was first taken in. And then... there was some sort of shift. A night in the Imperial City can do strange things to a woman.

She'd been sent to carry out a kill. When she arrived at the home of her new target, blade in hand and an anticipatory smile playing at her lips, she felt something strange in the air. It was the dead of night; an hour or two after midnight, at most. No sane victim should be awake at that hour, but he was. Oh, he was...

With a small bit of metal, she tapped the tumblers of the door's lock into place; she was quick with a lockpick, always had been. Quietly, she pushed the door open and was greeted by a rough grip on her arms. Thrown against the wall and pinned there with a knife to her neck, she managed not to panic, but something much more dangerous took root.

The first pangs of infatuation settled in, and they've been there fluttering about in her gut since.

The man wasn't kind or gentle to his assailant; who would be, and who cares if she's a lady? But he wasn't brutal. After all, there's not much need when one has a razor-sharp shortsword in hand, pressed close to a vital point. The man stared his would-be killer in the face. She simply smiled calmly back.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" Desirhae asked, without a hint of fear in her voice. Fear was something she'd abandoned long before this point. The man's stare remained unwavering. He did not answer. She was clearly unstable.

"You won't do it. I thought not, Lucret." The shock of this girl having known his name shocked him a bit, but not enough for him to release her. She tried to wrench her arms free but failed, so she settled for the next best thing, pressing her foot hard against his chest and shoving him away with all the strength she could muster in her leg. Brilliant move, with him still gripping her wrists tightly in only one hand (oh, those hands), which sent him tumbling backwards and she fell on top of him, landing hard on his chest. She struggled to break an arm away and take him out before he called for the guards; she failed.

The man threw aside his shortsword and with only the one arm, threw her backwards onto the floor, looming over her as she stared up, unperturbed.

"Who are you?" He asked, not a hint of anger or even irritation in his voice. He was curious. He didn't care that she'd just attempted to take his life, without even a moment's hesitation. She pulled, he held fast.

"I am the end," she said in the same steady tone. Looking back now, she wonders what ever possessed her to say such stupid things before a kill. It was all just storybook dramatic effect...

"The end is beautiful," the man said, and this statement quite literally disarmed her. The dagger dropped from her hand and hit the wood floor with an irritating sound. Annoyance set in- he was toying with her, that's it. He was taking his time and teasing her until he decided to throw her to the guards. She felt a surge of anger that she could no longer suppress and drew her head back to spit up into his face. He blinked a few times.

Then he released her.

She stayed there on the ground as he stood, certain that this was some sort of ploy. She would stand and he'd run her through with his blade. As she glared from below him, he extended his hand to her. And in a moment of stupidity, as she cursed herself for, moments later, she took it.

He pulled her up.

And threw her back against the wall. Oh, she'd known this would happen. But without a thought he gently wrapped a bit of her hair around his hand and tilted her head sideways before lowering his mouth to her neck. Her eyes widened; not out of fear, but sheer surprise. What were the odds?

Seconds passed after he broke the skin and tasted her blood. Pulling away and still holding her hair, Lucret said matter-of-factly, "You're lacking in something." Letting his hands settle at his sides and allowing her her freedom once more, he added, "You're a vampire, dear, it's quite plain to see... and to taste."

"I am a child of the night," she spat.

"So you're with the Brotherhood, then?" he asked, as though he hadn't already known the answer. She stared back at him, unresponsive. Oh, how very easy it would be to simply finish her job here if she hadn't seen his face. Her first impulse was to take his head in her hands and stare into his eyes. But she held back. Something in her told her to take his life and obey the Night Mother.

Something with a much more powerful voice said not to, for they were kin.

!! !! !! !! !!

Two years later, in Skingrad, Desirhae and Lucret pad through the streets and prepare for their night. He's never been the most subtle creature, not at all quiet enough to complete a job on his own, and Desirhae needs to get him some lighter boots. They're a team, yes, but not a very functional one when it comes to work. She's experienced in the ways of theft and assassination. He is not. She hasn't quite enough skill for the both of them, but this doesn't keep them from working side-by-side.

She pats the pouch on her leg to be sure that she has a few lockpicks on her. Of course she's got everything she needs, including her companion. She decides to take on an empty house tonight so there's little risk of getting caught, with Lucret tagging along.

Tonight... will be fun.


End file.
